Soft Targets by John Gilstrap Read Free Book Online

up front. We’ll do what is necessary to accomplish the mission. I’m not going to make a promise that I’m not one-hundred-percent sure I can keep. I’ll ask the same thing of you. We play with a full deck or we don’t play at all.”
    Irene found herself breathing too deeply as she sifted through all that was being asked, and through the resulting ramifications. She looked to Dom, whose handsome face was set in a blank mask.
    “If I do this, Dom, and I seek forgiveness, could it possibly come?”
    Dom’s eyes turned kind. “I can grant absolution,” he said, “but it’s up to the Big Boss to decide on forgiveness.”
    Something dissolved inside of Irene.
    “I’ll step out of bounds, though,” Dom continued. “I cannot believe that the Good Lord would prefer to watch a scumbag game the system rather than have two lovely young ladies reunited with their mother.”
    Tears welled, blurring her view as she switched her gaze to Jonathan. “Let’s do it,” she said.

Chapter 5
    Irene had never seen such a mansion. Situated next door to the rectory, it was the massive structure she’d noticed on the way into town.
    Jonathan ushered her through the front door and she was nearly overwhelmed by the opulence of the place. Everything from the sprawling oriental carpets to the mahogany stair rails were of the highest quality. The chandelier in the towering thirty-foot foyer glistened with millions of crystal baubles. She figured it weighed more than her car.
    “So you say you’re an enlisted man in the Army,” she commented as she took it all in.
    “Actually, I’m a noncommissioned officer. An E-8. First sergeant.”
    “They must pay you very well.”
    “I’m very good at what I do.” He led the way down the hall to a room on the right. This had to be called the library, just because of the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books. He helped himself to a comfortable forest-green leather chair and, with a sweeping motion of his upturned palm, he invited Irene to sit wherever she liked. She selected a silk-fabric love seat directly across from the fireplace.
    “My real home is on post at Fort Bragg,” Jonathan went on. “This is just the place where I grew up.”
    Irene felt her eyebrows scale her forehead. Richie Rich has nothing on this guy.
    “Jonny, is that you?” a voice called from somewhere outside of the room.
    Jonathan actually blushed. “Yes, Mama, it’s me.”
    He lives with his mother? That didn’t fit Irene’s view of this guy at all.
    Jonathan stood and walked to the door, where he met a round black woman as she crossed the jamb. Her eyes widened as she noticed Irene. “I didn’t know you had company,” she said in a Southern drawl as smooth as honey. Her words dripped disapproval.
    “Mama, it’s not what you think,” he said.
    Irene tried to help out, rising from her seat and offering her hand in greeting. “I’m Irene Rivers,” she said. “Special agent with the FBI.”
    The woman hesitated before accepting the gesture of kindness. “I’m Mama,” she said. “Mama Alexander, if you’d prefer.”
    Irene hesitated, not sure if she understood.
    “Mama is a mainstay here in Fisherman’s Cove,” Jonathan explained. “Lived here her whole life. Tell anyone in town that Mama is your friend, and every door will open for you.”
    Irene harbored no doubt that the converse of that statement was equally true. “A genuine pleasure to meet you,” she said.
    “I’m helping Irene out with a problem she’s having,” Jonathan explained. To Irene’s ear, he sounded oddly like a teenager covering his tracks.
    “Uh-huh,” Mama said. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, too.” She turned her gaze back to Jonathan. “Will you be wanting dinner tonight?”
    “Don’t go to any trouble,” Jonathan said.
    “And should I set an extra place at the table?” Her glare heated the room another twenty degrees.
    “Not for me,” Irene said. “I won’t be staying. Thank you though.”
    Mama’s